


a tale of crows (as told from the ground)

by allucas



Category: iKON (Korea Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Demons, Alternate Universe - Small Town, Creepy Fluff, Crows, Gothic, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Minor Original Character(s), Other Additional Tags to Be Added, References to Depression, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, The Rapture (Christianity)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-20
Updated: 2018-08-26
Packaged: 2019-05-25 20:56:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14985431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allucas/pseuds/allucas
Summary: Newspaper pages and random fliers scuttled against old, damp pavement. Whenever Hanbin looked down, he saw at least five different faces staring up at him from their faded homes on a missing persons poster. He sighed. He kept walking.Or, when Hanbin goes to stay with his aunt, he's drenched in the silver light from the moon that made him weep as a child.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> this is my first real posting to ao3 so i apologize for any formatting errors. this is not beta-read (or edited) so all mistakes are mine! i hope you enjoy. ♡

Looking back, Hanbin realizes he should've known better.

He drove. Headlights cutting through the heavy darkness that sat against his windows and settled in his bones. He'd grown cold and simply chalked it up to the November weather, twisting the knob on his dashboard that controlled the heat. Hanbin had turned the radio off three turns ago; back when he'd taken a wrong turn and the GPS gave out. He'd been to the location before and he figured he'd find his way eventually, so he called no one. The highway was long lost behind him, somewhere distant from the jigsaw puzzle of roads he'd managed through, and the chitter of nocturnal animals otherwise unheard, echoed in his ears.

Seemingly crawling through the thick sludge of night, it felt like he'd never get where he meant to go. Hanbin sighed. Time seemed stuck and the night seemed dripping in front of his eyes, entangling with the car's weak lights and forming it's very own substance.

His fingers tapped the steering wheel, the dull sound jarring in the silence, but he needed it. After a few minutes, Hanbin blinked hard at the sight of color. With focused eyes, he peered at the yellow house and a wooden sign. _Welcome to Bogwood_ , it read.

He had arrived.

Exactly four left turns were before the one he needed to take. Upon the fifth turn, he caught sight of a boy in a bright red rain slicker. It's surface was decorated in reflective tape, causing the yellow beam from the headlights to make the boy seem otherworldly. The strangers eyes were dark but he grinned, showing all his teeth, lifting a hand to wave. Hanbin’s eyes widened but he threw his hand up in a quick greeting before turning back to the road.

Hanbin didn't notice, but, the strangers eyes followed his car into the dripping black. The boy waited mere moments. His red hood was pulled from his head and he waved again when the crow that had hid there flew away.

 

Putting the car in park against the curb seemed like a finality to Hanbin and the sensation made him nervous, however, he only took a deep breath and stepped out. He pulled the backseat door open and grabbed his backpack, slinging over a shoulder before grabbing his duffle bag. The porch light flickered twice before stabilizing and the screen door groaned as if alive. A stout woman in cotton pajamas squinted at Hanbin before she smiled.

Hanbin’s aunt had always been on the small side and despite how she'd boasted about her gain of two _centimeters_ when measuring her height over the phone, Hanbin couldn't see a difference. He didn't say as much.

“You're finally here,” she voiced, “you get lost?”

Hanbin flushed, a bit embarrassed. “Only for a little.”

“Happens to everyone around here, even the Jenkins, and they've been living here for nearly sixty years. Bogwood is just a bit of a confusing place.”

She spoke as she led him to the guest room, stepping over a lazing calico cat just beside the sofa, and leading him down a short and narrow hall. The bedsheets were faded and floral, the window covering was a droopy lace and it smelled of mothballs and the indescribable mask of perfume. Hanbin set his things down next to the wooden dresser, telling himself he'd unpack in the morning. He was in no rush. He told his aunt goodnight and she walked back to her own room, just down one door. Hanbin heard each and every one of her footsteps.

Morning came faster than necessary and Hanbin groggily woke, reaching up to rub at his crusted eyes with a huff of disgust. At least he felt rested. With a yawn that made his eyes water, and another huff, he sat up. The room was sugar coated in dust and sunlight. Hanbin’s nose crinkled. Once on his feet, he reached for the window covering, pushing it to one side so he could see out. He let out a choked noise when he saw the crow standing on the windowsill.

“What the--?”

“Hanbin.”

At his aunt's voice, Hanbin turned around and the crow flew away with a wild _'scraw!'_ Hanbin felt nothing but anxiety at the sound but his aunt merely scowled and pulled the lace back into place.

“Disgusting animals,” she grimaced. “Nothing but disease ridden.”

Hanbin was still standing with arms curling around his torso from the small fright. He shook his arms out and cleared his throat out.

“So,” he began, softly, “there a lot of those around here?”

His aunt nodded, checking to see if the windows lock latch was the proper way. When it was, her shoulders relaxed and she turned back to her nephew with a grin, all teeth, and Hanbin thought of the strange boy from hours earlier; shining teeth and haunting eyes, hooded in red, and standing on the side of the road.


	2. have you made a friend?

In opposition to what Hanbin originally thought, the morning light made the town seem even duller than it had been at night. The playground in the center of the town was empty, not a kid in sight, but Hanbin found himself looking over his shoulder every few minutes when he swore he heard the telltale sound of a childish giggle. No one was ever there so he didn't say anything. Hanbin swore he'd never seen sadder houses in his life; not meaning they were dingy or rundown, most of what he'd seen appeared new and strong, but something about each building seemed to weep. It made Hanbin ache somewhere deep in his lungs. 

A shrill scream sounded off from the parking lot of a deli, Hanbin turned his head to look out of instinct and his aunt gently grabbed his face and made him face the other way. When it sounded again (and again and again), Hanbin didn't bother. 

Newspaper pages and random fliers scuttled against old, damp pavement. Whenever Hanbin looked down, he saw at least five different faces staring up at him from their faded homes on a missing persons poster. He sighed. He kept walking. 

His aunt walked into the small grocery store while he followed, and waved at the singular cashier near the door and they waved back. The cashier didn't look at Hanbin. The air conditioner was loud, rattling and humming in the large metallic foil tube that curved along the ceiling. Hanbin risked a glance back and saw the cashier was gone. 

“You eat peanut butter?” 

Hanbin turned around. “Huh?”

His aunt jokingly rolled her eyes. “Do you eat peanut butter?”

“I guess so.”

She tossed the plastic jar in the blue shopping basket and began walking further into the dimly lit building. The echoes of their footsteps chaffed concrete floors and matching walls, crawling into Hanbin’s rib cage like spiders ready to hollow him out. He shivered. 

They ventured through many aisles. When he looked up, Hanbin’s eyes couldn't see an end to the row of flickering fluorescent lights, despite knowing the building they walked into was quite small and seemingly crumbling. He wanted to question it; to ask his aunt, “what the hell is going on?”

He didn't.

 

They were walking back toward his aunt's house, which meant they had to walk past the deli once more. Hanbin kept his gaze on the ground when he recognized the beat up green car out front of it from their first time passing. No one screamed but he heard a mechanical whirring coming from the butcher shed to the left of backend of the deli. He swallowed around the lump in throat, feeling his skin pebble up and his ears ring. 

A few more steps and his aunt stopped. Hanbin looked at her, ready to get back to her house so he could hide from the eyes he felt peering out of their homes. Her gaze was fixed in the direction they'd been walking but she now sneered in a way Hanbin had never seen. He followed her gaze and felt his lips part in surprise.

There he was. The boy in the cherry red rain slicker and bright yellow rain boots from the night was standing before them, clearing his pockets of what appeared to be feathers. Hanbin didn't blame his aunt for staring, the stranger was the brightest thing for miles, but he knew their similar reactions came from different emotions. His aunt straightened her mouth into a friendly grin and called out a name.

“Junhoe,” 

Hanbin winced. Her voice was too sweet, too wrong, fizzing on her tongue like rock candy. A plum left to rot. 

The boy-- _ Junhoe _ \--looked up at them, hands freezing in their motions, fists full of lost crow feathers. There were even feathers clinging to his hair and Hanbin smiled. His aunt did not. 

“Madame Kim. Hello.” 

“You should watch your hands soon,” was all she said, stepping into the road to walk in a wide circle around the boy with black feathers blending to his hair. 

Hanbin gave a small wave and watched as Junhoe grinned in response. He walked past casually and only turned back around when a familiar sound rang out. He turned, eyebrows raising at the sight. 

There was Junhoe, still waving, still grinning, only now with a crow perched on his head. Hanbin blinked. Then, he waved again. 

“Bye Junhoe,”

Said boy froze, arm still extended. His smile never dulled but it seemed Hanbin’s face finally clicked into his memory. It felt like Junhoe was looking at him with new eyes. Hanbin watched as his teeth found light and twinkled in a line. His arm dropped back down to his side and the crow called out again as Junhoe began to speak.

“Goodbye, friend.”

Hanbin hadn't moved, neither had Junhoe (nor the looming bird), until his aunt seemed to appear behind him.

“Hanbin.”

Said boy jerked around, startled, and stammered at her negative facial expression. “Sorry?”

“Don't talk to him. The birds have ruined his head.” The crow gave a loud call and his aunt flinched, grabbing Hanbin’s arm. “Time to get home.”


	3. hey, hey, piano man

Hanbin had grown fond of birds. Crows, especially. 

Bogwood seemed to be home to a plethora of crows of all sorts. Each sort seemed drawn to his newfound friend, Junhoe, who in turn, gave them all names and let them rest their wings whenever they came near. Hanbin had never given the birds much thought until he'd begun seeing them everywhere. These days, Hanbin had crows of his own begin to follow him. 

“It's a good thing,” Junhoe had voiced, “I knew they would like you.”

Hanbin hadn't blushed. He swears.

It had gotten sticky warm for the time of the year. It was hot even in the shade and Hanbin felt as though he could never recall ever feeling a breeze. The day stuck to his teeth like bubblegum and he yearned to peel it away. He felt as if he'd begun to sweat but whenever he reached to his hairline, his skin was dry. A crow called out in the distance.

Meanwhile, a melody from a piano seemed to follow him through his aunt's house. She didn't own a piano. Hanbin didn't question it, merely hummed along. It was pleasant. At night, wild dogs howled and barked constantly. They never stopped. Hanbin couldn't remember when they started.

 

On that Tuesday, a young boy jumped from a bridge into a swift river near the treeline by the edge of town. Junhoe says he was pushed because he tried to leave. Hanbin's aunt says Junhoe should jump next. Nights hung over his head like heavy, wet cloth. Blackness buried him alive.

Everyone dresses the same. All the women in yellowing white uniforms from the diner had unnamed dark splotches on their skirt hems. Hanbin's aunt wore black shoes and white socks; the same substance sticking to the socks hem. Mud, his brain said. Blood, the crows told him.

 

Ravens flooded the sky on Thursday. He'd been with Junhoe and more crows than Hanbin had ever seen, hid in the tree above them. 

The next morning, Bogwood woke to roads and yards covered in dead birds. Ravens. Petrified and heavy, the birds seemed to have frozen midair but that was impossible. It had been 107 degrees Fahrenheit in the night. 

The death of so many pretty birds made Hanbin a bit sad and when he told Junhoe such, he was tugged into a gentle embrace. A crow chirping oddly by their feet, pecking at the feathers of a dead raven.

“They weren't meant to fly here. They're flying home now.”

Hanbin thought he sort of understood. He smiled. He kissed Junhoe’s clothed shoulder. 

The birds were gone by the time he rested his head on his pillow.

 

“I'd quite enjoy a world of our own,” Junhoe whispered, “wouldn't you?”

The two lay side by side on dead grass, ignoring the irritating sensation of the dry blades pricking the skins of their necks. 

“I would.” An easy answer.

Junhoe smiled, tight lipped, watching the clouds turn grey and the townspeople disappear from the main road. “Ah,” he hummed. Junhoe closed his eyes and shifted his body so his head leaned against Hanbin’s.

“Let's always remember this.” Hanbin decided, “we'll have our own world someday. Okay?”

“Promise me,” was Junhoe’s response. Hanbin promised and the brightest boy for miles looked him in his eyes. “Then it'll happen. A world for just us.”

Hanbin flushed at the steady gaze but firmly nodded. “You and me.”


End file.
